I Am Memorable
by ZiaDarling
Summary: Her family was murdered. She was blamed. She was thrown into Azkaban, sentenced to live her days in a cold, stony cell. But she knows she's really just waiting for her cruel fate to find her. Even then, she'll never stop fighting.  Other Char. Oneshot


She sat there, huddled in the corner of her damp, dark cave cell. Beetles and centipedes crawled over her frozen toes and she watched them as she rocked back and forth, her arms tightly wrapped around her chest. The thin striped prison gown she wore provided little warmth and this place was so cold. So cold. She could feel ice forming in her heart, the unbearable chill slowing her blood. Her mind was foggy and all her memories unclear. She was losing faith. Losing hope she'd ever see the sun again. Her nights had only been illuminated by the dim glow of the moon and the soft twinkle of the stars. In this awful place, not even those seemed bright. Her teeth chattered together noisily and she shook her head from side to side, trying to rid the image of darkness from her head. She held her eyes squeezed shut, forbidding herself to look upon the bleak hole she now lived in.

Azkaban.

She could hear them whispering outside her cell bars. She could tell they were plotting to kiss her soul away. Plotting to do away with everything she had. They were tall, slender, hooded figures with bony fingers and deep holes in their heads where they sucked away at people's lives. How many times she had sat there, defenseless, as they fed on her past, devouring the images of her family and the laughter of her friends. She couldn't bear it anymore, so she had succombed to unconsciousness the last time they had tried to eat away at her memories. Now, she could only wait for them to enter her domain -no, her cage- and strip her of everything. And just as the thought occured, they appeared, their chilling fingers gripping her arms and hoisting her up into the air. The shacles on her arms and legs clanked around with the chains that kept her bolted to the stony ground.

They wasted no time.

Each memory flashed before her eyes, giving her one last taste before they disappeared, leaving her with just the bitterest of her days.

Her sister, Annabelle. Anna had always had long, lovely blonde hair. It had always made others jealous. Annabelle was beautiful and very gifted with a wand. She could perform the hardest of spells without even blinking. Her laughter was her most precious gift, though. Like a soft chime or the tinkle of a tiny bell. Anna could brighten any situation.

Save for this one. The vision of Anna disappeared, the screams of her tortured sister left in the memories wake. A cringe went down her spine as she remembered her poor sister being tortured slowly and painfully until she died, the relief a sadness for all to witness.

Next came the image of Mark. She had always loved Mark. The first man to ask her to dance. The first man to send her love letters attached to the leg of a honey brown owl. The first man to kiss her in the astronomy tower so many years ago. Mark had even asked her hand in marriage. She wished she had said yes, knowing now that distancing herself from him wouldn't be enough to save him from the horror that would surely come. At least, if she had married him, he could've spent his last few days a happy man.

The memory of Mark faded away slowly and all she could think about was his cold, hard face staring up at her with blank eyes, the wand falling to the floor as it rolled out of his dead grip. He had tried to save her. But he was no match.

The memories came and then went, leaving her with the hollow faces of her loved ones. Each time, she screamed out in agony as if it had been her who had been brutally murdered, slaughtered with flashes of color and unspeakable poisons. The methods of magical death each of her friends and family had faced caused her own pain to double now that she re-lived those tragedies. The final memory made her shake uncontrollably. She writhed in the arms of her foes and let out an earsplitting cry, screaming with her eyes closed as if she could drown out the memory or banish it from her sight. But no. It came and so did the pain. The hurt. The terror.

Her newborn child.

Alexis, or Lex as she had always taken to come her baby, was gorgeous. Big, blue eyes. Curly blonde hair. A heartmelting smile. Lex was a baby unlike any other. Lex was fascinated with magic. A simple trick would make her grin and squirm in delight. Alexis was a wonderful gift. So precious.

One night, as Alexis's mother was putting her to sleep, Alexis began to cry. She wailed and moaned, wiggling around like she needed to escape. Alexis's mother, not knowing what to do, closed the door and hoped for the best. But what she got was the worth. Beneath the door, a flash of green light could be seen. Alexis's mother burst through the door, but she was too late. The baby was dead. And standing over her bed was none other than Voldemort.

Voldemort had been trying to recruit her for weeks, and everytime she ran or fought back, she paid the price in blood. But not her own. After being convicted for the deaths of those around her, she was wrongfully thrown in Azkaban. Ever since, she had been trying to claw her way out or shield herself in some way from the utter horror. The chaos. The terrifying nights and chilly mornings. But the Dementors had been especially cruel to her, any of them under the influence of Voldemort himself.

The dementors let her drop to the floor as she screamed, the image of Alexis's vacant expression burning into her mind. She saw the bony white feet before her and she didn't have to look up to know who it was. She didn't _want_ to look up. If she did, she'd be terrorized by flaming eyes of red, a face as white as the ghosts that feared him, and a sinister grin that could freeze the heart of any man. No, she wouldn't dare look into the face of Voldemort. At least not while kneeling at his feet. If she was going to stare him in the face, she'd do it with dignity. With pride. With defiance.

_**"I'll give you one last chance. Join," **_he said coldly, dropping to his knees so he could pull her face to his with a rough hand. _**"Or die."**_

She glared at him, disgusted and frightened. His eyes showed no mercy and his face was hard like a mask.

_**"Never." **_she said bitterly, the single word echoing through the dark prison.

Voldemort's face disappeared behind the shadowy faces of the Dementors and he walked away, not turning back to watch them suck away her soul. He halted at the barred door of her cell when a flash of white light behind him suddenly appeared.

There she stood, her back against the wall as the Dementors fled from the scene, a large lioness patrnous chasing them away, it's claws extended and it's teeth bared viciously. The deadly gaze it held was very similar to the lethal look in it's counter-parts eyes. She stood there, her wand lowering to her side, the lion disappearing in a puff of wispy smoke. Voldemort didn't even spin to face her. He merely looked forward and chuckled darkly.

_**"Why do you continue to fight?"**_ he asked.

_**"I won't let them eat away at my life."**_

_**"You don't have a life anymore."**_

_**"Yet I'm still alive."**_ she spat back, her voice raising an octave higher. She took a step forwards.

_**"You should have let them kiss you. It couldn't have been any worse than what you shall receive now."**_ Voldemort concluded, turning to face her at last. _**"On second thought, you can sink no lower. I shall show you mercy. You're death will be quick and painless."**_

_**"I don't want your mercy." **_she whispered, each word distinct, cold, and fierce. She threw her wand down at his feet and stood there, her eyes hard and her heart pounding furiously. She wasn't afraid. She was prepared.

_**"I insist." **_he sneered.

There was a blur of green light and she fell to the floor, her body going limp and her eyes clouded with death. Voldemort disappeared, leaving her there on the cold stone ground.

Beth. Beth was her name. It was a normal name. Beth was a normal woman. Beth lived a normal life... Until the Death Eaters came calling. Now Beth was dead and so were her family and friends. Nobody would notice that Beth was gone. Nobody would care that she was no longer around. Nobody would remember Beth because she had never done anything truly memorable.

It's sad to say nobody saw Beth in her last hours. Only then would they remember her. They'd remember her as a hero.


End file.
